In The End
by Atman
Summary: Accepting a destiny of greatness and never faltering in her belief that despite appearances to the contrary on far too many occasions, Selphie always felt everything would be all right in the end. She doubts now. The end is over, and all is not right.
1. To Hold and To Hurt

Author's note: While it was somewhat challenging to write from Quistis' perspective in _Past Tense, Perfect Tense, _I at least have a lot in common with her, and so I think I identify with her well. Selphie, on the other hand, is the polar opposite of me. Short, spunky, outspoken, energetic, friendly, sunny, female, mechanically and musically inclined, and hopelessly optimistic (how's that for an oxymoron?). Yep, aside from being mercenaries, Selphie and I have absolutely nothing in common. Kidding about the mercenary thing, obviously.

So, what follows is a prologue of a very long tale involving Selphie's search for Seifer after the events of the game, from her perspective. It'll be challenging for me, but hopefully illuminating and fun. I love the clashing personalities and sweetness of Selfers. I'm not sure that this is what it will become, but I won't be a tease like I was in _What We Scientists Like to Call_, I was just mean, leaving the story hanging like that. Maybe I'll pen a sequel sometime.

Anyway, I digress. I know this is short, but I hope to have a lot more soon.

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"No."

I was sitting off to his left when he said it; a considerably longer response than the speech he'd written. Unable to help myself, I giggled under my hand. The reporter was frustrated and sat down. Squall watched the sea of waving hands begging for his comments, then quickly turned on his heel and stalked away.

He only condescended to being a man of few words out of necessity, and, I presume, Rinoa's influence. If he had the choice he would be a man of no words. The rest of us rose and followed his lead, leaving behind a crowd of Galbadia's brightest and most disappointed journalists and politicians. They'd been waiting at an impromptu conference hall outside Fisherman's Horizon to ask questions of Garden's commander. They only got to ask one.

The question in question had been multiple choice, not short answer: "Commander Leonhart, the former Knight Seifer Almasy has been sighted taking asylum in FH. Do you intend to extricate, capture, or imprison him?"

Some follow up questions that never quite got asked of him were, "are you hoping to harbor him, along with the two sorceresses you have?", "would you say then that you've washed your hands of the events leading to the war?", and "so, you intend to let the Galbadian army lay seige on this peaceful town?" My favorite was, "can you confirm or deny that you are, in fact, a warm blooded human being?"

We all walked away from the crowd into a nearby knoll and waited for Garden to swing by to pick us up. No one chose to follow us. I suppose they knew better. Squall was scowling, which somehow had the effect of pinching his scar into a tighter line and making it more prominent. Quistis walked over to him, a bad habit that somehow hadn't died. She'd have to talk to the trees this time - there were no walls out here. Zell cracked his neck and bounced on the balls of his feet.

I guess not much had changed in the months following Ultemecia's defeat, not for us, anyway. By now the midsummer early evening sun was glinting with a viper's bite at me from the arrays of solar panels along the edge of the town. A few dogged fisherman were still up on the piers, long lines trailing down, looking like the beginnings of a strange aquatic spider's web.

A splash along the docks caught my attention along with the faint drifting of laughter. There was a floundering dark shape in the water. He made his way back to shore and stared to climb out of the sea when the laughter ceased. Garden was moving in, all silence and motion from the Horizon Bridge. When I turned my head back to the pier, the man was looking around frantically, dripping and sputtering, while being harassed by much smaller white-haired figure.

It all felt too familiar and yet very strange... The laughing man was gone.

Zell did some handsprings to the now docked Garden. Everyone else shrugged and walked toward our floating home, its nomadic tendencies fitting like a well worn boot on our orphaned feet. I found Squall wasn't the only one frowning.

Were we really just going to let Seifer go? It seemed wrong. Maybe that was Squall's idea of punishment. Condemned to live in a world all too willing to remind you of your every sin for as long as you should live. A walking griever without hope of forgiveness or even of not being sad and hurt. I shuddered. Not knowing how I felt about that, I stopped walking and considered the punishment, if that's what it was. Would I wish it on myself or anyone else? No, but I didn't think he should be protected either.

Part of me wanted him close for a more personal serving of justice. Maybe blowing him to smithereens... But I'd lost my appetite for that dish of revenge when I thought about T-Garden, ironically enough.

Squall stopped, put his hands on his hips, and looked at me expectantly. I didn't pay attention and let my mind wander. If I were to be perfectly honest with myself, and I seldom was, the child in me missed having my big brother around, now that I could remember him in that role. It was one that Zell, though also older, couldn't fill. Squall was too robotic, Irvine too immature. It was Seifer who was the combination bully and protector, a trait that never left him, and my big brother, whom I both wanted to hug and to hurt at this very moment. Maybe I could kill him _by _hugging him! You know, like a snake, or Wendigo. It'd be humiliating, slow, painful, and completely in my own style.

"Ahem..." I looked up to Squall. "We're going."

I dug the toe of my boot in the ground. "I think I'd like to walk around town for a while."

"You'll need to get your own ride back to Garden."

_Jerk._ "I know. Tee-hee!"

"...Whatever."

I started trudging toward town. Squall yelled from behind me.

"Tilmitt!" I turned around.

"Yes, Commander?"

He gave me the kind of mind-reading appraising glare that only he can give. "You're not planning on doing anything... Insubordinate... Are you?"

I thought about it for a moment, tapping my finger to my lips. "Nah, not technically."

He nodded in a way that said... Something. Hell if I know what. Just for appearances, I plastered a big grin on my face and beamed. "You're going after him, aren't you?", he asked. My grin faltered and I played with my hands behind my back. I met his eyes again, stormy as they ever were, swallowed a shockingly solid gulp, and inclined my head, _yes_. His monotone response: "I hope you find him."

He'd turned and walked into Garden before I could look up. If I ever understand that man it will be a minor miracle.

Finally, I walked uninterrupted into the harbor town. The Galbadian army was on the other side of town, still waiting for permission to enter or the order to storm the gates.

I began to run.

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Author's Note (Again): A word about first person perspective – I find writing it difficult, but I love it. It gives the author less control over what the audience would experience in the tale, but it also allows the narrator to be duplicitous and make assumptions. Keep that in mind. And if you ever have the chance, buy or read Jaoquim Maria Machado de Assis' _The Posthumous Memoirs of Bras Cubas _or _Quincas Borba_. Two of the finest examples of how powerful the first person voice in literature can be, and frighteningly realistic mirrors into the ways we deceive ourselves.

Reviews for this and any of my other works always welcome.


	2. One Man Short of a Committee

Author's Note: Alright, I realize this is far too short and probably boring considering the time I spent to get it here. More to come soon with interactions between Selphie and Seifer. Can't think of much more to say, besides the fact that I think I interpret Selphie to be extremely observant, if not analytical, despite her spacey moments. I think of her as an observe/react type of person, rather than one who picks things apart intro- and retrospectively. This will probably get her into trouble later. Just saying…

Thank you to my early reviewers. I'll try to make this worthy.

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><p>The winding wooden streets of Fisherman's Horizon groaned and rose and fell. I rushed toward the docks, losing my orientation as all the paths seemed to curve out to the sea, becoming piers, ports, and jetties with subtle transitions. The whole place, except the park outside, was brown. Ugh! All wood and rot and rust. My feet skidded to a halt as I nearly plummeted off a rickety wooden platform. I looked around, trying to superimpose the sights around me into my memory of the waterlogged man at the docks. He must have been south of here and higher, because I couldn't remember being able to see mayor Dobe's house.<p>

Backtracking into the mercantile, I found urchins and fishmongers and far too many people. It was too loud to listen even for the distinctive bellow of the man I was almost sure was Raijin. I hopped, skipped and jumped my way to the flat, board-topped restaurant at the end of the main street. From that view I could make out the pier from earlier, but no former disciplinary committee...

There! It was definitely Raijin, and Fujin was next to him, waving her arms wildly. They were coming down one of the upper branching paths to the throng in the marketplace. I clambered down the back of the building to cut them off. I had little trouble once on the ground navigating the pulsing throng of people. Darting between bodies and shoving others aside I listened to the many conversations taking place, especially keeping an ear open for any "ya knows" or "IDIOTs."

The merchants were really playing up the possibility of invasion. Particularly those who imported their goods, citing probable embargoes. I rolled my eyes. FH had plenty of military value, being the keystone to the only path by land that connects Esthar to Galbadia, but presently there was no reason to hold it. Esthar was now good at sharing with the rest of the world; there was no need to take from them.

I eavesdropped on a conversation between two fishermen.

"Did you see him?"

"Who?"

"The Knight, you idiot! He was fishing on the pier not twenty minutes ago."

"Fishing? Why? What is he doing here?"

Pretending to peruse the vegetables, I listened to the conversation and looked around for the posse, since I could actually see several feet in any direction and was standing where they would have to travel to pass by.

"How the hell should I know? I just want him gone."

"Enough to invite the Galbadian army in to collect him?"

"Not that much... Would have been easier if SeeD had just taken him. Heard the kid commander said they wouldn't touch him. Guess that leaves Trabia and Galbadia to fight over the rights to prosecute him."

_Prosecute? They have an entire battalion outside. It's a firing squad with 438 extra shooters, not a clerk with an indictment._

"Well, I hope Dobe finds him and throws him to the wolves. I'm still repairing the damage from the last time soldiers were in town."

"Ah, well. If he was here to cause trouble he'd have done it already. Besides, if he was trying to lay low, why would he fish right out in the open, in the middle of the ocean with no way to escape. He must know the whole world is after him."

"Except SeeD, apparently... I guess if I fought him three on one three times like they say, I'd probably give up too. Think he has a plan?"

"Who knows? Seems to be able to disappear when he needs to and I can't think of a better place to come for peace."

_Peace and Seifer... Conversation and Squall... Underachieving and Quistis... Reason and Zell…_

The conversation ended. I considered reporting the merchant for labeling and charging for Balamb Fish when he was clearly selling Badamb Fish, but I didn't have time. Instead, I turned around to look at the other side of the bazaar, and ran into someone. Or rather a mountain who became man. Raijin.

"Whoa... Excuse me, ya know? Didn't see you there."

"Didn't see me?"

I hated it when anyone made light of my small size. Anyone who did found out that I'm little, but loud.

"You're telling me you couldn't see me coming from the view on the peak of Mount Gagazet?" I think my insult went over his head, despite his height.

"Well, your dress is bright but you are pretty small, ya know? Besides you weren't watching where you were going."

I huffed and put both fists on my hips, stomping on his foot for emphasis, causing him to hop on one foot and yelp in pain. "Why don't _you _watch where I'm going, lookout tower?" That comment earned a giggle from Fujin, who lowered the Zan, which had been aimed almost imperceptibly only moments ago at my neck. I had my nunchaku within reach, but didn't think I'd need to use it. I like to disarm with charm.

"EXPLAIN."

"Explain what? I can be here if I want. What are you two doing around here? Mayor Dobe doesn't like trouble."

Raijin sent his partner and anxious glance. She stared at me, studying for several long moments, then she nodded to him.

"Are you looking for Seifer, cause we won't let you take him in, ya know?"

"I just want to get to him before the Galbadians do. He should come home."

"HOME?"

"Garden. To keep him safe." Fujin narrowed her eye at me.

"We're here to keep him safe. He wasn't himself during the war, ya know? He shouldn't be held accountable..."

"..." Only Fujin and Squall could make an ellipsis into a full sentence. She and Raijin stood there, looking sullen and worried.

I decided to press the unaddressed issue. "Where is he?"

They exchanged meaningful looks again. I think they decided to tell me the truth.

"GONE."

"Gone? What happened?"

"I don't know... He was there," He pointed to the docks. "Fishing with us just a little while ago. Fuj knocked me into the water and after she helped pull me back out he was just gone. We've been looking for him since then."

Maybe he fled when he saw Garden coming to dock. "How long was he with you guys?"

Raijin scratched his neck. "Just a couple a hours, ya know? He found us in town this afternoon. It was the first we seen him since, well, everything happened."

I nodded. "He never indicated where he might be going next?"

"NEGATIVE."

"Yeah, here one minute, gone the next."

"GHOST." Fujin concurred.

I considered. Since most of the town was over the water, there were few places to hide in it. Galbadian troops would have seen him if he tried to go outside the walls to the west. _Everyone _would have seen him if he tried the restored train, and there would have been quite a stir either way. Word got around quickly in FH. That left only one other option, he would be wide open, but completely unopposed. The Horizon Bridge. Needed to cover my bases here first. I would check the town, buy provisions, and likely take the long trek toward Esthar.

"Do you guys have place in town he might have gone to?"

"Possible, but we never told him where it is, ya know?"

"All right then. Lead the way." Raijin nodded and we walked toward the center of the town, past the master fisherman, the mechanics that helped us with Garden, and the renovated train station.

We walked up a couple of flights of outdoor stairs and Fujin opened up the door. Inside was a dimly-lit studio apartment, clean, but smelling faintly of fish and salt breeze. To be fair, everywhere in FH smelled like that. It made me anxious to go. The three of us looked around briefly for any sign that Seifer had been by, but soon found that there was no trace. I peeked out the window at the solar array and had to avert my eyes from the glare. If I was him I'd hide among them and sneak my way out to the eastern maintenance tunnels under the bridge. I resolved to head that way on my way out of town.

Raijin sat down heavily on the sofa. "I'm worried about him, ya know?"

"DIFFERENT."

"He seemed different? How?"

Fujin shrugged and pleaded with her eyes, er… eye, to have Raijin explain. "Dunno. Like he wasn't really there. He seemed… Troubled, almost, ya know? He was lost in his own head, like…"

"DISTANT." Fujin paused for a moment. "COAT."

"Oh yeah! His coat."

"What about his coat?"

"Well, last time we seen it it was torn to shreds, ya know? Today it was good as new. Like he was in a badly edited action-movie."

That was an analogy I could understand. Man, nothing ruined the suspension of disbelief as much as when you'd just watched someone jump out of an exploding building and into a pool and five seconds after they emerge every hair is in place and they're all dry. What gives? …But, back to the information at hand. ..

"So, maybe he bought a new one, or stole it." The other two shrugged, not finding my explanations likely. It did strike me as a unique coat: not easily replaceable, white dragon leather. "Well, I should get going. Thanks for the info guys."

I was a little surprised they hadn't asked to help or followed me on my quest, but knew Raijin was employed as a dock-worker now and probably couldn't travel. Fujin closed the door behind me as I stepped back down into the recycled city and felt revulsion at the smells and sights. The world's official home of peace and love should have looked more the part.

A sigh flitted through my lips as I scanned the town again. At the western gates the red uniforms were starting to break through. Soon they'd conduct a grid search and would undoubtedly find Seifer if he was here. FH had no recourse to keep them out at present, with no army or police force, they had to suffer through the Galbadians until Esthar or SeeD showed up with enough military or political power to compel them to leave. Dobe was still arguing with the commanding officer as I climbed down the steps and headed to the market and item shops. I had to buy provisions and go.

Fishermans Horizon is a terrible place to buy things for a trip. Most of the substantial food is fresh and even the rest didn't tend to keep well. There wasn't much call for camping equipment either, since everyone seemed so content with their lot in the middle of the sea. I sighed for the second time in as many minutes.

I bought what I needed and quickly stuffed into a backpack, only as much as necessary to make it over the bridge. From there I'd have to hunt or purchase more somewhere, but I didn't have time to worry about it, the Galbadians were coming closer.

Hoisting the pack onto my back, I sneaked my way to the solar panels in the east and looked back toward the setting sun. Men in dinghies were scouring the underside of the city, checking everywhere for the wanted ex-Knight. Walking along the highest level of the array, I quickly surveyed the levels below, finding nothing except an unsuspecting couple, wearing little more than the surprise on their faces. Whoops…

Rather quickly, I backtracked to the maintenance hatch of the eastern rail, tugged the lever, and climbed in.

Where the bridge met the city the constant salt spray of the crashing waves made the tunnels wet. I looked down and saw footprints leading away from the city. They were big ones, with the distinctive diamond flower patterns of many steel-toed boots. I grinned.

Big brother could never hide from me for long.


	3. Forgotten Fear and Happiness

Author's Note: It's been a awhile since I contributed to this, but I think I'm coming back into it and updates should come more quickly along with a couple of new ideas I have brewing. I'm resigning myself to the idea that the chapters are short and won't apologize anymore. Selphie's short, chapters are short. It's only fitting.

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The maintenance halls stretched on for miles and miles. Unfortunately, the wet tracks stopped after a dozen feet or so, and every half-mile a ladder would climb up to a hatch unto the train tracks. At any point he could climb up them and turn back, but I didn't think he would. All that waited for him in FH was the armament of the Galbadian army.

I never saw fit to unjunction myself. The world was still a dangerous place after the Lunar Cry, especially so where I was going, and I hated the thought of giving up the superhuman abilities it gave me. Presently, I was built for speed and stamina. I would make the trip to Esthar in about a day. Without junctioning I could never hope to catch up to him. Or survive the encounter when I did.

Big brother could never hide from me, but he sure could run. All things being equal, Seifer was far faster than I was, faster than any of the kids in the orphanage. Chalk it up to long legs and a lifestyle that had him running into and out of trouble at all hours.

My quick pace and reminiscence stopped as the sound of an approaching train above had me stop to cover my ears. The noise was deafening in the closed confines, even with my ears plugged, and the lights flickered and darkened. After two or three minutes, it passed completely, and I set off again, thinking with some amusement, of forceful thoughts that ripped away my childhood memories from the snatching claws of the Guardian Forces. The lights came steadily on in the tunnel and in my head, with a little prying.

I set out again. My mind filled with neglected memories of times that I didn't remember forgetting. …Not that one ever does, but, you know what I mean.

Life was a little more than a giant beach when we were together as kids, and if there was more to it than that, you could keep it to yourself. We spent every pleasant day on the temperate sandy shores by the lighthouse and many nights and rainy days too. The beach was always littered with the small wonders we as children loved to discover: the roving hermit crabs, pretty empty shells, fish, and ancient driftwood. When not on the beach or forced into the house, there was a big field full of fragrant flowers and a nearby swamp, which happened to be one of Seifer's favorite haunts. He would travel out there and I would follow him, eager to see what disgusting but cool creature he would try to capture. We would trapeze over the logs with pinched noses to block the awful stench, sneakily approaching a frog, snake, or something else, trap it, and then take it back to the orphanage.

Where it would invariably end up in a dresser drawer, down Quistis' dress, Zell's shirt, or on one memorable occasion, in the toilet. Following the screams of our victim and the foreboding quickening click of matron's heels on the wood floor, he and I would run off again, to the safety of the swamps. Giggling the entire way, we would recount and try to mimic the faces and screams until we couldn't breathe and our sides hurt from laughter.

After getting back home, he'd ruffle my hair, not gently, but affectionately, threaten anyone who thought of having revenge on me, then rip an arm off my doll the next day, or push me down, tell me that no one would adopt a "pipsqueak tomboy."

We always came back to the same routine though, and no one could pick on me except him, and I hadn't wanted it any other way.

As quickly as I took back the ability to view my childhood, it left again. All time, all things, are borrowed. Quistis would call it 'opportunity cost'; what you give up in order to have something else. Somewhere along the line I'd decided that my fighting ability was more important than my memories, but I couldn't remember why.

A train approached on the other side of the track, coming back to Fishermans Horizon. It wasn't nearly as loud as the one that came directly above me, but it still played with the lights and showered dust and small rocks on me.

This far in the tunnel, a fine film of dust covered the floor. It kicked up as I ran along.

_Damn it._

I looked behind me. There was a cloud of grey soot fogging the way I'd come, dust dampening the light of naked bulbs. I swore, this time aloud. There were no tracks but mine and no dusty clouds ahead. The tracks at the entrance had been fresh so there was no way I couldn't have overtaken him if he was still down here. Darting to the other side of the tracks, I checked for prints and clouds. Nothing.

The next hatch to the surface wasn't too far away and I flew up it.

Once I was back out in the open, it struck me just how confined I was inside. The sun had set. The air was humid and chilly, floating along jet streams in the open ocean. Stars absolutely blanketed the night sky and shone brightly with no nearby city or other source of light to compete with. It was breathtaking. I turned around and the wind immediately whipped at my hair, weighing it down with salty breezes. Directly ahead of me the stars abruptly stopped halfway down the sky.

Fresh water was on the air. There was a quick flash of lightning and a peal of thunder. Great. A storm was behind me. I needed to cover as much ground as I could quickly, because I didn't like my chances on the bridge in a monsoon.

The wind made all the loose fabric around me flap loudly and blurred my vision. I ran with the wind at my back, into the east, where I hoped to reach some shelter, or at least find a suitable place to bivouac before the rains hit. Humid air became soupy before I stepped onto the earth again. Soaked already, I scanned the rocky terrain, thankful that the oppressive moisture mostly left the air as soon as there was ground beneath my feet.

The sterile air around the salt flats acted as a desiccant, but wouldn't absorb the rain. I found a jutting rock formation that shielded wind and was reasonably high above sea level. Tenting myself and my things awkwardly under the overhang, I used a few crampons and strung out a hammock.

No noise reached my ears but the wind, distant rain, and the occasional thunderclap. No animals or insects or birds dotted the landscape. I was completely, utterly, _alone_. For the first time I found myself really examining and questioning the reasoning behind my sudden flight.

I unzipped my bag and started chewing on some dried meat. There were few things I hated more than being by myself. Sorceresses from the future and jelly doughnuts came to mind... But being alone scares me more than any monster or any mission I could be tasked with. I think it's because I have less control over my thoughts; they start to wander and turn dark, focus on unrealized fears, and question the sanity of their creator. Sometimes they wander and I think they won't come back.

The sea was churning in the distance, bright flashes highlighted whitecaps in the waters, spray and hail as the storm rocked the horizon bridge. I lay down on the hammock, exhausted, but unable to sleep. The wind whispered black threats and harrying shrieks as the first raindrops fell of the Estharian continent, shooting up plumes of gray and red dust as they crashed to the earth. Soon there was a cloying dampness even here and the dirt in the air was sucked back to the land.

Why did I choose to run off on my own? _Seifer, I hope you're worth it. _

Now I would have liked to find him just to have someone to talk to, someone to be around. Someone to talk over the unhappy thoughts and bad weather. Someone to tell me that I really did help save the world, and it was worth saving, and it won't just keep going back to war after war, persecuting my family, stealing and raping and lying...

Can't someone tell me? That I have reason to be as happy as I pretend to be?

Eventually I was paralyzed by the sounds of the frightening wind, hammering rain, deafening thunder, and the cries of a little girl afraid of the storm. I shivered until a rogue breeze cut around my tarps and feathered through my hair. The girl stopped crying and I fell asleep.


	4. Small Fish, Big Pond

I awoke and swung out of my makeshift hammock, feet landing in a moving puddle of water and silt. The ground was unused to rain and seemed unable to welcome it. In the west the world was all water. Everywhere I could see the world was water.

Only the horizon bridge and its barely visible lights broke the blue-grey of the vista. The red line of the Galbadian column stretched along it, armor glinting in the early morning sun, coming down in ochre wisps through the fleeting clouds. I could faintly hear the cadence of their marching. Throwing my camp into a pack and shoveling what little fresh fruit I had into my mouth, I began my hunt again.

Each step in the flat expanse surrounding me sloshed with the standing water the underground clay wouldn't let it drain. I walked through a watery desert after taking off my shoes and shaking my head at the absurdity of it all. The sun would hopefully dry this all in a day or two, but until then the land would be all strangeness. Well, until then the land would be drowned.,, I turned around every hour or so to see if the Galbadians were keeping up, and sadly they were. Their armor wasn't much hindered by the water and all their infantry piled into APCs and amphibious transports.

Their keeping pace with me wasn't something I wanted to think about, so I focused on the almost perfect mirror that was the horizon. That was still a little unsettling, but altogether more beautiful, the way it looked as though I stood in and endless sky.

Or maybe an endless ocean, since I had been walking in salt water for untold hours.

While the concept of limitless possibilities made real was exciting, I didn't appreciate it at the moment. There were no tracks and the water made for slow going. Even with my junctions I doubt I traveled any faster than a typical walking pace. Nowhere was there any high ground or clues of any kind as to where I should go next.

I could continue on to Esthar, but I really doubt Seifer would head there, being the new poster child for the Lunar Cry and all. Maybe there would be news there.

Of what, though? The chance that anyone in that city walking outside their safe and perfect bubble into the dangerous and barren wilderness and glimpsing a war criminal who didn't want to be seen in one of the more remote areas of the world seemed... Remote. The continent was wide open, and uninhabited, one could choose their direction where I stood, and go that way for a hundred miles or more before seeing another living soul.

He could go, and hide, _anywhere_.

Suddenly I sat, overwhelmed. By my folly in taking up such a fool's errand, by the unexpectedly heavy weight of true freedom, and by all that I realized I did not and could not control, most of all, my own thoughts, seemingly the thing I was coming to have the least control of all. I also realized that I just soaked most of my possessions by parking my ass in a foot of water.

Almost crying at my own idiocy, my mind wandered into darker places. What if I never found him? What if I didn't have a job waiting for me when I got back? Squall seemed okay with me leaving, but...

How would I even get back home? I had no way to contact anyone unless I made it to a major settlement, which would probably not ever be on the itinerary of my target. For that matter, what if I did catch him? Should Seifer not be in the cooperative mood _if _I found him (and when was he ever in a cooperative mood?) I could only hope that the shame brought on by my strongly worded scolding would make him come back with me. Fighting one on one he'd fillet me.

I wasn't prepared for failure or success on this mission...

The water slowly warmed as I sat thinking and the sun hung directly above. Matron always said it was okay to let your mind wander as long as it stayed close enough to be called back when you needed to, so I stood, gave the Galbadians my best one-finger salute and soldiered on. Worse came to worst I could always commandeer another one of their tanks and all would be peace, love, and smithereens again. Not in that order.

Continuing on, the water warmed and the day was peaceful. Gulls and other seabirds flew overhead and there was a gentle pull at my feet in the slowly shrinking landlocked tide. Something must have given way to drain it along the path ahead. Walking in it felt like standing in the inlet next to the lighthouse at the orphanage.

In all but the driest seasons there would be a short stream and a small pool away from the ocean and protected by the breakwaters. Shells and starfish would get washed ashore and end up there for us to inspect and play with. And naturally, each time the rain allowed we would skip along the tops of the exposed rocks, pretending the water below was lava, even though with the undertow currents it was plenty dangerous already. We would try to make it all the way to the lighthouse and frequently did. It's a wonder none of us were swept out to sea.

I was surprised the memory didn't slowly go the way of the standing rains and drain away. Instead I found myself smiling as the water picked up speed and small boulders revealed themselves in the landscape, as if inviting me to relive my childhood. Soon the, uh, seascape, was littered with rocks and I found myself racing along the path they seemed to make to the northeast.

My memories merged with the present and giggling versions of my friends followed me to the lighthouse to the one who I knew was already there. I skipped and scampered as much as I wanted with no one roaming the halls to admonish me. My rock-hopping travels slowly led me to higher ground and I realized that I was passing over the salt flats, on its northern edge.

Some of my islands turned from stones to bone and then to fresh carcasses. My pace had increased significantly once there was dry ground or bodies to jetty between and the Galbadians were a faint glimmer within the slowly forming fog by the time I saw Grandidi forest. They skirted north, into the cover of the Nortes Mountains before resuming east along the Esthar Plains. They were now a good half day behind me, I guessed. I followed the water, which was now just a forked lightning of diamond studded streams into the tree-filled valley, listening to the fading laughter of a boy I used to know, waiting in mockery for he had won the race.

Wind came down from the mountains and dried most of me and my things as the forest came to greet me along with the sunset filtered through the kind of mist you'd always see in film noire. In the undergrowth I swore I could see the flicker of jade eyes and flash of a white and red coat. I ran, forgetting after only recently remembering that I hadn't eaten since the morning, and that my legs had grown tired and sore for the first time in a long while. There was smoke in the mist.

Cascades of droplets fell on me as pushed through the undergrowth. The shocking greens and earth tones were a revelation after a day spent in the water, but they were quickly swallowed in the thick fog.

The ground was muddy and slippery, and I frequently tripped and slid in it.

Snickering rushed at my ear from somewhere nearby. I think.

Blood rushed to my head and my heartbeat filled my ears. I looked around me and at me, dirty, panting, and sweaty, expecting a pox of snipers laser sights on me and to see red lines amidst the trees, but I saw nothing. Vaguely aware of the sounds I thought were ambient, I stumbled in the paranoid way of the prey sensing a predator, but not knowing where it was. Eyes were burning into me.

I don't think I'd ever been this scared in my life.

Scrambling up from the ground where, I'd fallen again, I backed up into something warm and dry, another living body. How I stopped myself from screaming, I'll never know, but I launched myself at the ground in front of me and found a tree instead. Reeling, I turned to meet my stalker.

I couldn't hear anything over my own breathing. I couldn't see anything where I thought I'd run into someone. Panicking, I tried to pull myself together. Some SeeD I'd turned out to be. Going insane after one day on my own, jumping at my own shadow, brought to a stumbling mess by a little fog and forest.

"Little Messenger Girl?"

The voice insinuated itself in my left ear, and this time, I couldn't help it. I screamed. Hyne, I could feel the mad smirk on his scarred face. I jumped away and could just see the statuary of his coat with the bloody red crosses sticking out of the haze, slight glint of the few rays of sun that existed and pushed into my small, small, world on his golden hair.

I scuffled on my back until I had pressed myself into a tree, watching as he folded his arms, shaking violently, mind too full to function.

He never moved until, he was suddenly looming over me, face still obscured by the mist.

"Couldn't they have sent the Instructor instead?"

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Author's note: So I guess this is off hiatus. I plan on having another chapter up in a couple of days. It's going to get more interesting.

I hope you enjoy.


	5. The Grey

When I awoke I couldn't see, only hear. I assumed feeling and smelling would follow.

I fumbled through my bag to find something to eat. I didn't care what, I was starving. My breathing was loud in my ears. Birdsong filled the thick air, and when it didn't the patter of dew falling off the trees and onto whatever lay below tattooed its own beat. Everything was louder; it sounded like I was eating my teeth as I chewed.

The fog had only grown thicker through the night and it appeared to have no intensions of leaving anytime soon. Blinking away the sleep from my eyes, I lifted my head from my pack and looked around at the slowly fading charcoal darkness. Everywhere I looked the view was the same, only changing when I came within touching distance of an actual object.

All around me the sounds of the forest continued. They seemed to be everywhere. A rustle of foliage signaling the passing of some critter. The beating soggy wings of a bird waking to take morning flight. Breezes sending the cascades of trapped water off leaves and branches.

Silence was a lot noisier than I remembered.

I enjoyed that revelation for all of the three minutes it took me to remember the moments before I must have fainted the night before. Fear. It made the fog oppressive and infinitely lonely. I remembered fear. Not fear of whatever predators might stalk the arbor, but of the prey that hunted me.

The morning brought me control over it, though it was still there.

"You're a SeeD, Tilmit. Act like one." Strange Vision didn't need me to see my target to hit it, and I held onto it tightly in my right hand, allowing it to drag on the muddy skin of the damp ground as I walked in Hyne knows what direction.

"Probably shouldn't talk to yourself Messenger Girl. Might go insane out here all alone."

All that self-control was torn away in a moment from that voice that came from all around me. Though my heart hammered enough blood through my body to ferry a barge, not enough of it was reaching my brain, because I didn't know what to do, or even feel, about the man who sent missiles that killed many of my friends and mentors and the boy who grew up protecting me. The newfound command of my memories made things so complicated…

_What would Quistis do…? _I thought, walking slowly with my weapon brandished. _Keep him talking until I think of something. Banter!_

"So you're a psychoanalyst now?"

I swear I could feel his shrug wave through the heavy air. He was ahead of me. The faint smell of campfire and an orange glow on the grey marked his location.

"Who better to judge than someone who's been there?"

That sentiment gave me pause for passing time, but kept walking until I was before the fire. Only then did I realize how much the damp air had soaked and chilled me. I sat next to the welcome flames.

"You've been there?" I continued.

"I think you know that, Selphie," he sighed and I was taken aback by the odd tone, the unusual use of my real name, and the hidden meaning behind the words.

My head cocked to the side. "Does… Does that mean you aren't there anymore?"

He was staring at me. I could feel it even thought I still couldn't see him across the ochre ink that was the fire.

"I think so."

That was honest. And scary.

My mind reeled. Why couldn't I summon hate for this monster of a man, who couldn't tell if he was sane?

Probably because all I could see over the flames was a lost little boy, all ideals and romance, who might have the flint of anger but never the glint of madness in his eyes like the tides. He was a boy I used to chase after he ran off when he was caught doing something he wasn't supposed to, like when he decided that Zell's bedding would be put better use as a parachute to use when jumping off the lighthouse.

I slowly crossed my legs underneath me, adapting to the fact that I had no answers, I accepted the questions instead.

"Why did you want it to be Quistis who came after you?"

Another shrug, I was sure.

"I can manipulate her. I could be sure I could get her to hate me."

"But not me?"

"No."

"Why not? I don't think there's anyone with greater reason to hate you, excepting all the parents, brothers, and sisters of those you killed." The camp crackled and spat. Green lunacy of his eyes in the war filled my mind. "Why couldn't you resist her?" I asked him, more mildly than I intended.

There was a whisper of clothing in motion across the way and rhythmic snapping of twigs. He was pacing. I tensed and got to the balls of my feet.

"I don't know," he finally said. I thought he'd go on, but he didn't.

I sighed. "You're right. I don't know why, but I can't hate you."

"You never had it in you to hold a real grudge. Always quick to anger. But quicker to forgiveness. That's Selphie." He sat down beside me.

Whirling toward him, I demanded shakily "What are you doing? Just because I can't hate you doesn't mean I trust you. Stay back!"

"I thought I'd try to see you."

Only a few feet from me, I couldn't make out his face, or form. The haze shifted. Or maybe not. I couldn't tell.

He chuckled. "I guess not."

The fire slowly flickered in the gloom. It would go out soon.

Seifer started pacing again.

"Where are you going?"

"I thought you wanted me to stay away."

I sighed. "No. I mean, what are you going to do? Where are you headed?"

"I don't know. Away."

Had he ever been this unsure before? Ever?

"Away from what?"

An exasperated sign spanned the distance between us. "Fuck, Tilmitt. Everyone, everything. Myself if I can manage it. You and your unending list of questions…"

"You don't really mean that."

No answer came as the minutes passed by, not that I'd asked a question. In front of me he'd stopped walking and the fire stopped burning. All around me was unending grey and it was so much like time compression it was unsettling. My mind could, and would, come up with all manner of unpleasant ways to fill and empty the blank canvas of this world without borders or content. I shivered as it grew cold and quiet again.

I didn't like it so much this time.

"Are you still there?" I asked timidly.

"Yeah," he responded. "You disappointed?"

"No." I probably sounded more relieved than I wanted to. "I… I like to have company. I hate being alone. Especially when it feels so much like time compression." I recalled how our bonds, faith, and love for each other had been able to bring us 'fated children' from the purgatory of time compression, and I wondered, "How did you make it out?"

His laugh was short and sounded a bit like a sneer. "I'm starting to wonder if I ever did." Seifer swallowed audibly, but then everything in this cloudy world was audible, and I could tell he'd moved closer again. "You were right. I didn't really mean it, but since I can't be close to anyone, I might as well move away."

Despite everything, I swear I could hear my bleeding heart breaking over the sounds of nature. He must have grown bolder or more desperate since I didn't tense again.

"Tilmitt… Selphie." He hesitated. "Can I touch you?"

I swallowed. A lump, sudden unidentifiable fear, and tears.

"Why?"

His exhalation was loud, because I think I'd stopped breathing and the rest of me dropped, for I found my heart in my throat.

"Because I'd like to know that I'm not insane. Because I didn't expect my little sister to come after me after I got in trouble even after all these years. Because I haven't really, truly touched anyone, in, in, I don't know…"

He struggled, and so did I.

"Are you the man who forgot his family or are you the big brother who caught snakes with me in the bog?"

He choked and his next words tumbled out, fragile and broken, through the coarse and unused sweet voice. "I never forgot my family…"

I reached out then, deciding that I would touch him instead, for I feared for my own sanity and the products of being truly alone. His face was smooth and warm, and felt like sweating marble on a humid day. The hand that reached up to first clasp mine, then feel my own face, was gloved and lent the feeling of a big wet leaf, warmed under an autumn pile on a sunny day. I hoped he couldn't identify the warmth of the tears that mixed with the cool moisture on my cheeks as he ran his fingers through my long matted hair.

"I always hoped someone would remember that I was once family too."

Certain hazy things became all too clear in that mist in which I couldn't see the present and feared the future. All I had was the past I denied so long.

I wept openly for the first time in a long while, in the hope that there were still things in this world worth lamenting.

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Author's note: Well, that was a bit more depressing than I thought it would be, but I hope you enjoyed it.


	6. Into the Darkness

I startled awake and blinked blearily at my cascades of memories of the previous day. My backpack was still on and it was still and dark at the northern edge of the forest. Following Seifer's twelve note whistling into the night, I didn't have the energy when we finally stopped to make a campsite. Or eat.

His voice, that song, so melancholy, was the only thing that grounded me through the night as I stumbled through the forest and the detritus below.

"Where are we going?" I asked more than once. He mumbled some lyric in the same melody as his whistling and I wondered if his assessment of his sanity was accurate. At one point he did finally decide to answer me, probably tired of hearing the same question over and over. The answer was as disturbing as the lack of one.

"I'm going to hell, but I have things to do first."

I stopped.

"What does that mean?"

"It means there are things I want to accomplish before I'm killed, Tilmit."

So I was back to Tilmit. And we had been getting on so well… For a hunter and her prey. Or his prey. I started walking again before he got far enough away that I couldn't hear him.

All of the insects and nocturnal animals had come out by this time and they sang their night songs, with an almost harmonious cadence that took me to a home that was not home anymore. GARDEN was too big, insulated, and antiseptic to hear any creatures outside it and Trabia was far too cold for anything to celebrate the sun going down, but at the orphanage there was a symphony to be heard though the thin windows at dark. Crickets and frogs sang us all an encore lullaby even after Matron left us in our rooms to sleep. That little constant helped a lot in an ever-changing world of a young orphan.

"Have you been back to the orphanage?" I asked him, for little other reason than to keep myself in the present, awake, and not think about anyone's prospects of the afterlife. Too many were gone, too many seemingly close to joining them as I wandered through the darkness following a whistling harbinger of… Something; hell if I knew what.

"Not lately."

"It's kind of fallen apart."

"Shame."

"Yeah."

I squeezed some of the water out of my hair from the drips on the trees. "I miss it there. My childhood."

He snorted. "Your childhood? I'm not sure it ended."

"Hey! It ended all too soon…"

Maybe that was why I did the things I did to try to make everyone happy pretending I was. I wanted back what I never really had, what none of us really had. Was it possible to will into existence a simpler reality in which faith in goodness, in impossible happiness and harmony, were not just ignorant, childish notions? I could… have, vanquished nightmares and monsters, but nothing I have done made any ideal closer to the truth.

Truth didn't much matter anyway to the world and it was an ugly thing, truth. Without it, what hope is there for justice, reward and punishment, either temporal or eternal, or hope itself, for that matter?

"I know," Seifer said after a moment. "I miss it too," he admitted.

We walked in heavy, shadowy silence for a time, and I stewed wondering if I had chemical imbalance due to junctioning over the years or if I was justifiably despairing.

"When I went to GARDEN, most of you had been adopted," his voice broke me of my reverie, thankfully. "Squall and I were left behind with Matron after the rest of you had been taken to new homes, and seeing the rest of you go had done nothing for his loneliness or my anger.

"But I had to try, to get along with him I mean. Once in a while he'd respond to my pleading, threats, or invitations to explore the swamps or shores, but a reluctant explorer is not the same as an eager one. I suppose I wasn't much of a 'Sis' either… It was only like that for a few months and then I was shipped off to GARDEN in Balamb. I was seven."

"And the rest is history?" I interrupted, feeling like I was about to go on a long guilt trip if I didn't. I guess I was going to hell with him. No longer guilt trip than the road to hell…

"You know the problem with history? When you set out to make it, you don't get to write it." He sighed. "Nobody should ever give a kid with burgeoning romantic ideals a weapon…"

"Why are you telling me all this?" desperately asked.

"Because, as unlucky as we both may be for the truth of it, I finally have family again, and you're it."

I stopped.

"Coming?" he asked me, after a long while, from far ahead.

I could barely see. So I followed my brother into oblivion, glad that he never voiced the accusation that I knew now to be true: "You and the rest all forgot me." But he never forgot his family. Our lives were tortured at least partly because of it. He was walking back to me and I was trying not to cry, failing. If only we grew up together instead of apart…

Suddenly a leaden arm was around my shoulders, keeping me from planting my face in a tree I hadn't noticed.

"Hey. We'll never know what might have been. No use crying over it. I sure won't. Maybe…" he paused. "Maybe this is the best outcome of our lives. Maybe it'll be all right in the end because of all that came before. It'll be all right in the end. I promise. I'll be there."

I choked out a laugh that was more than half-sob.

"When did you get so wise?"

"I've had a lot of time to think lately."

"You have? Between the world's governments, lawyers, and armies chasing you all over creation?"

"Well, it focuses the mind."

We trudged along in the thinning undergrowth of the forest. I think I must've somehow fallen asleep walking, because the darkness seemed a bit brighter and the ocean was able to be heard in the distance when my head snapped up and I took another step out of my unconsciousness. There was faint 'warking' from somewhere in the trees.

Starving and more than a little wet, cold, and sore, I tore into some preserves and hard bread in my pack and walked out between the last of the trees. Seifer was gone. No traces of ashes or footprints in the darkness. So I fumbled my way through the thicket surrounding the forest while trying to shrug into an insulated jacket and looked out to the ocean. I'd traveled far to the north, I realized, probably close to the latitude of Trabia, though the climate on this eastern peninsula was noticeably milder, especially at this time the year.

I smelled lilacs. Probably hundreds of them, making the air itself honey-like with the scent soaked in. They bloomed in Balamb over a month ago, after we came home from time compression. It was like I'd been through another year, another life, since then.

Wishing I could see the bushes too, I ate my way to the shore, where I had the vague notion of a large island on the other side of the channel is was facing. Almost a beacon in the darkness of the waters was a shock of blonde hair. He bobbed over and under the churning of the waves, beneath clouds so thick they made you lose faith in the sun, that made the earth feel still, but you could almost feel them hurtling overhead.

Heralds of something even darker.

Yelling and waving my arms frantically, I tried to get him to hear me, wave back, turn around and not leave me… But I don't think he noticed, and he drifted away into the darkness leaving me stranded there on the shores of hell.


	7. A World of Ice and Fire

On the water, even with the sun rising, the fog was taking on a different form and it lifted off the roiling waves like curtains of wispy ice trying to form. I loathed the idea of going out to sea in that churning, and surely cold, mass of whitecaps and dark ocean water, but Seifer was nearly out of sight. He looked like he was heading to the island in the northeast.

There was no way I was going to make a raft in time to keep him in sight. I turned and ran along the beach to see if there were any nearby settlements where I might find a boat. This part of the world was full of swamps and fjords and it had a modest tourist industry of boat tours along the forests and islands.

I tore through the rocky flotsam and quickly spied a shack ahead, with a jetty and small boathouse sticking into the water. Pounding on the door, I looked through the windows and saw the signs and clutter that meant a seasonal business which was not yet open. Finding my way around the kiosk and into the covered dock was easy. Whoever owned the place, which I now saw rented kayaks, left it unlocked if one was willing to wade into the sea a few meters and climb onto the pier.

As it turns out, I was only willing _after_ I'd put on a small sized wetsuit that was left conveniently in an outdoor trunk, also unlocked after bashing it open.

In the boathouse were a couple dozen kayaks and paddles. Taking one down that looked newer, smaller, and well-sealed, I replaced it with a 1,000 gil note and prepared to traverse the sea.

The island did not look far, but where horizons were concerned looks could be deceiving, and I had no delusions that it would be a very easy journey. I secured my lifejacket and sealed myself in the little boat before paddling out into the open ocean.

Waves lifted and dropped and tossed me as soon as I was out of the boat house. They raised me so that I was atop a peak with the sky all around me, and I could see Seifer approach the flat island. They also dropped me into a valley of dark waters, disorienting and frightening.

As I shot through the mists, I could feel the mounting cold, even through my wetsuit.

Suddenly, I was taken back to a time when I was even smaller and the ship that took the other children back to Centra after visiting Fisherman's Horizon, where the Tilmits had decided to adopt me, shrank into the distance on choppy waves. That little boy's shock of blonde stuck out in the sea, stubbornly refusing to say goodbye when he found out I would not be returning with him, the last of us orphans, with Squall.

I remember waiting for the train. Waving frantically, screaming until I grew hoarse and my adoptive parents struggle to keep me from plunging into the depths to try to return to the only family I had ever really had. I just couldn't let him go like that, couldn't go _from _him like that.

But I did. I had to.

And golden-haired Seifer Almasy became a memory of warmth and beaches and brotherhood in frigid Trabia, where my absent adopters used me as a tax write off as they struggled to build their own businesses. I hated Trabia and I hated the change and I hated pretending that I didn't. But pretending made everyone else more at ease and sometimes even happy, and that made me happy, truly happy.

His memory faded with time and there was no warmth when we met again…

I'd traveled far when I came back the present. The water crashing all about roared in my ears and the webs of foam on the black tide ebbed and expanded with every second that passed by. Somehow the waves were taking me closer to the foreboding shore, which seemed to reach out to me with icy hands that grew wicked talons.

Out of nowhere the mists became bergs and I fought furiously to avoid them, though neither they nor I had any real direction or constancy. A tundra shore seemed to run out at me while I struggled to navigate the throngs of icebergs shuffling all around me.

A four meter chunk of one smashed into the right side of my hull, knocking me sideways. I was on my side, half underwater. The current shoved me past countless floating knives. One bit into my shoulder as I tried to roll back to the dry side of the waves, but kept getting pushed the other way and could not gain the momentum I needed to right myself.

I desperately stretched my neck to gulp down some air, but ended up swallowing more water and sputtered before turning completely upside down and underwater. Keeping my eyes open stung in the salt water and my shoulder hurt where the ice hit me, but I forced myself to be calm, even while bending over double to avoid another boulder of ice. Setting my paddle before me and using it as ballast, I spun with my core, hard to the left and managed to right the kayak and stay above water, coughing violently.

No sooner did I get about water than threw me out brutally and I landed on a mass of ice hard enough to knock the breath from me. Waves battered at my boat and nearly took me back into the open waters where I would surely be hammered by the frozen debris.

I frantically unfastened myself from the kayak and scrambled for purchase on a lilting and fracturing shore of rime. Kayak dragging behind me, I ran and jumped over the growing cracks and jetting boulders of ice, falling, being pelted, and slipping all the while.

Only when I made it to solid, ice-free but frozen, ground, did I stop to take a breath and take a look around me.

The waves surged over 10 meters high and buffeted the cold island with a deafening roar. The island itself seemed to grow and fight back at the tides, all sharp teeth and claws, with newly formed glaciers splitting and expanding in constant violence. I threw up few liters of seawater.

Unconsciously, I backed away, further into the island. I was shaking and not just from the cold.

Only, the roaring never died away.

I soon went back to my default method of dealing with how screwed up many situations in my life turned out to be: pretending they weren't. Opening my pack and finding that the water seal had held, I found some food and ate after doing my best to towel off, change, and throw on a SeeD parka before freezing. I was only partially successful.

Huge crystaline spires dotted the otherwise mostly flat island and I found, as I moved toward the center, that it was also littered with the remains of hundreds of monsters. I stepped over the shattered and dismembered remains of a Malboro and a few grendels, before realizing where I was, and that at some point, the roaring had changed from water to fire.

While a multitude of the fiends had frozen biers, still more were in blazing pyres.

And there he was in the middle of a world of ice and fire. All pristine white, red, ash, gold, he seemed a perfect king, or maybe god, of this beautiful, destroyed place. My brother.

"Seifer!"

He turned, halfway, to see me out of the corner of his eye.

I stopped, well short of him, but he beckoned me closer, and I came, looking all around.

"Why did you come here?" I asked.

"Told you I was going to hell."

"This is the Island Closest to _Heaven,_" I corrected.

"Never did pay much attention in geography class…"

I sighed. "If you were anything like Irvine, you probably found Quistis' geography to be more interesting and couldn't be bothered to devote any thought to the real world's."

Seifer smirked.

"I'm not sure there's any difference for me anyway. Between heaven and hell, I mean."

I had no idea what he meant, but still had no desire to discuss the afterlife so soon after nearly being introduced to it. Did he even notice any of this? He strolled through the freezing detritus, flames, and carnage as though walking through a field of wildflowers. So did I, but I shivered.

"Did you do all this?"

He glanced at me; my teeth chattered even though I'd dried off.

"Much of it," he offered. "I thought you liked the cold," he muttered.

So he wasn't completely oblivious to everything around. I tried to skirt closer to the fires, but I could not seem to find a point of comfort. Everything was divided between a shocking cold and blistering heat.

I stayed over the hot side of the invisible lines as long as I could as frequently as I could.

"I hate the cold," I finally admitted, tantamount to saying my life was a lie. I guess it probably was.

"Mm," he grunted, as he stepped over the carcass of an emerald dragon. "Miss Trabia hates the cold. Why do you pretend to enjoy what you don't? Think it'll make everyone else happy? Think you can make warmth with just your sunny disposition?"

"Well… Yeah."

I'd felt that way for a long time. That I could, and I learned I could, truly, be so able to fake being happy that others became happy, and then I would be truly happy.

"Think you're so good at it that no one will ever discover that you're a phony, that you won't hurt someone when they discover the truth?" There was a hard, sharp edge to his voice I wasn't accustomed to hearing. He walked up to nearly frozen adamantoise, slammed Hyperion into the socket of its neck, and levered the whole thing open like a clam.

I turned away, tears turning to salt and ice on my cheeks. The argument I'd given myself for nearly a decade ran from Seifer, knowing it was too flimsy, because sometimes seeing others happy didn't make me happy so that it all worked out. It wasn't a self-fulfilling prophesy, just a ruse that sometimes fooled others into fooling myself. Maybe I just made everyone else fake it too. Maybe that was why ultimately, I was alone.

Trying desperately not to weep as he turned around to come back for me, I fell to the ground, hardly able to move.

He sighed a heavy sigh and I felt him remove my pack to set it under my head.

"I'm too cold, Seifer."

"You can't make warmth on your own," he said, in a milder voice, and I felt his coat come around me, a big pocket of heat enveloping me.

Didn't I know it. Nobody can make warmth on their own.

It always escapes when you're alone and it leaves you colder than before.


End file.
